


Words

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: Continuation of parking lot scene at the end of "Sympathy For The Devil." Assumes pre-existing Sam/Dean relationship.   We have marked those bits of dialogue that are either direct or paraphrased quotes from the show by putting them between asterisks.  (transferring this 2009 fic to AO3 by request)This is the parking lot scene
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Dean's Fetish

Sam stood staring at the Impala for a long moment. _He doesn't trust me? Doesn't TRUST me!?_ Sam sighed softly before walking slowly toward the passenger door of the car. _I said I was sorry, if I could take it back, I would. What am I supposed to do?_ Opening the car door, Sam folded himself into the front seat silently, glancing at his brother as he did, before looking out the side window. The silence between them stretching out uncomfortably.

Dean started the car, rolled down the window half way, and pulled out of the lot. Every muscle in his body was tight, and he was leaning toward the door, not looking at Sam, not wanting to see that wounded look. He'd tried. Goddamit he'd tried hard to keep a lid on it, but it had all just come boiling out, and he was glad. It needed to be said... needed to be put out there.

He didn't even bother with the music and the roar of the Impala was all he had to listen to, with neither of them breaking the silence. It wasn't ever going to be the same, he just... he knew it in his gut.

Sam frowned as he looked out the window, watched the dark scenery pass by. A sidelong glance from the corner of his eye showed that his brother leaning as far from him as he was from Dean. Great. Shifting in the seat, Sam closed his eyes as he slowly let out a breath. Didn't Dean realize he _knew_ that he had fucked up!? It was the friggin' Apocalypse and it was all his fault. Yeah, he knew! He'd totally screwed up, he sure as hell didn't need Dean rubbing it in his face with his, 'I don't trust you'. 

Frowning he sat back in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the windshield. The silence was deafening and it was starting to get to be too much. He wished, probably for the first time ever, that Dean would just turn on the damn radio. Anything was better than this. Anything. 

_'I don't think I can trust you'_ Dean's voice sounded in his head and Sam turned away once more. Did he mean, _hunting_? Or _everything_? 

It was the longest three mile drive ever. When he pulled into the motel lot, Dean just told Sam he'd take care of getting the room. Stalking in, without waiting for Sam, he spoke with the guy at reception. 

Sam finally managed to get his mouth to close after watching his brother practically launch himelf out of the car. Shaking his head with a huff, Sam opened his car door, unfolding himself from the seat. Closing the door, he walked to the back, grabbing their bags as he waited for Dean to come back out. 

Five minutes later, Dean was back taking his bag from Sam, and walking to the motel room. Unlocking the door, he walked inside and hit the lights. He did't say anything, but selected the bed closest to the door, tossing his gear on it.

Sam watched Dean walk away to the room. "You're welcome," he mumbled under his breath, as he hefted his laptop case strap onto his shoulder and followed after his brother. 

Walking into the room, Sam frowned as he looked around, "Two beds? Since when do we get two beds anymore?"

"Since tonight. I just... I need a little room, alright? Stuff I need to process, let it go." Taking his jacket off, Dean tossed it onto the back of a chair and dropped down on his bed. Though he didn't watch Sam, he was aware of his every movement, tensing whenever he moved closer.

Setting his laptop case on the table, Sam walked around his bed, sitting on the edge, facing Dean. "Stuff you need to process?" he asked with a nod, "Like trusting me?" his eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother. Tearing his gaze away with a huff, Sam pulled to his feet and started toward the bathroom. 

"Yeah, Sam, like trusting you. Like wondering what the hell else you and--" Dean bit back the rest of his words. "Did you bring the beer?"

Sam stopped and looked back, eyes narrowed, "Wondering what else me and....? What Dean? What were you going to say?" Turning around completely, Sam held his arms out wide at his sides, "Don't stop now, hit me with it! What the hell _else_ did I do wrong!? What _else_ has made you 'not trust me'!?"

"Nothing... just." He was afraid if he said anymore, he wouldn't be able to shut the fuck up. "Just... just go to bed." Feeling his brother's intense scrutiny, he licked his lips and then looked up at him.

Sam huffed and shook his head, "No, I wanna hear it, Dean. Tell me. How else have I wronged you and the rest of the fucking planet!?"

It was his tone that got to Dean, forcing the blood straight to his temple. "What else were you doing with Ruby, Sam? Don't fucking look at me like I'm from another planet, I KNOW what you did when I was gone. You think I'm an idiot, you think I'm buying that it just... just stopped just because I was back on the scene? You ... her... all those secret meeting... don't fucking tell me nothing happened. Just don't." Blindly, he searched for the remote.

The wind was knocked out of Sam's sails with his brother's words, his angry expression quickly changing into one of sorrow and hurt. "Oh," Sam mumbled softly, hanging his head as he nodded, licked his lips. "Well, I, uh," he peered up at his brother from under his bangs. "The demon blood, ya know?" he shrugged a shoulder, tearing his gaze away, nodding again as he thought about all the times he and Ruby had fucked. First, it was just to feel _something_ other than the pain of losing Dean. It had felt wrong, so wrong for so many reasons, but then, it was like once he had gone down that road, there was no real turning back so why bother? 

"Yeah," he mumbled softly, turning to head back toward the bathroom once more.

"Yeah," Dean said bitterly, staring daggers at Sam's back. A part of him had refused to believe Sam was still fucking her. But now... He dropped back and closed his eyes, pain and anger tying him up into knots on the inside.

Ten minutes later, Sam walked back out after having showered and gotten ready for bed. He pulled back the covers when he saw his brother tense from the corner of his eye and stopped, sheet and blanket in hand as he huffed, jaw clenched. "Are you planning to do _that_ every time I come near you, or just until you make me feel worse than I already do?" Sam asked, as he remained facing away from him, staring at the wall in front of him.

"Just fucking go to sleep Sam. I'm not doing this now, can't." Yeah, because once the lights went out, he was going to fucking implode in silence. Just the thought of his brother's admission had him wanting to throw up. Literally.

Sam sighed as he dropped the blankets and sheet, turning around. "No," he said softly, shaking his head. "We _need_ to talk about this," he licked his lips, "if we don't.. how," he ran a hand through his hair, "How are we ever gonna get past it and move on?"

"I don't know." Dean swallowed, "I don't know if I can. Ever." He sat up again. "The blood, that's ... that's one thing, you got addicted, but _her_? Her Sammy? What, I wasn't enough? Or did you get an extra little kick out of it.. fucking around with me, then with her. What was it?" He demanded, nearly shouting.

Sam shifted his weight, his face going from one of pleading for Dean to talk, to make this, _them_ work, to one of anger. "No, Dean, you LEFT ME! You off and died ON ME! I was ALONE! I had NO ONE BUT her! And then..." he huffed and shook his head, tearing his gaze away, "then I was already in it, already there and," he shrugged, "I dunno..."

"That's it? I died, you fucked a demon... and that gives you a free pass _after_ I got back? To keep fucking her AND me. If I'd known, I'd have fucking introduced your face to the goddamn sidewalk. Now just fucking shut the hell up, cause Goddamit, I still might." His hands were balled into fists, anger welling up inside him, raging like a storm about to go out of control. 

"It wasn't like that! I stopped!" he pointed at himself, "I fuckin stopped doin' anything with her for a long time after you got back, I stopped!" he grit his teeth and ran a hand through his hair, "You told me that the angels said that I needed to stop, I did. Cas even told you I did, remember!? But then," he huffed and hung his head. "When I went back to the blood... it just sorta happened," he mumbled, then looked back at his brother, "S' not like I planned it!"

Throwing the covers off, Dean was in Sam's face, hauling him off the bed. "I told you to fucking shut up. I don't want to hear it, alright. I don't fucking want to think it," he shoved him back so hard, Sam's back hit the headboard. His chest rose and fell, anger burned in his eyes as he stared at Sam like he didn't know him. 

Sam stared up at his brother, lips parted, brows furrowed. "I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to fuck everything up, Dean," he told him softly, "I meant what I said, if I could take it all back, I would." He shook his head, lips pressed together before he licked them, "But, I dunno what to do."

"Well you can't, and sorry doesn't cut it." He gave Sam a hard stare, then turning on his heel walked to the door, grabbing his jacket, and refusing to respond to his name. He slammed the door shut and pulled the collar of his jacket up as he walked... walked to get the hell away from there. One more minute and there would be blood between them.

* * * 

Sam woke before Dean, dressed and grabbing the motel pad of paper wrote a quick note to Dean. Glancing over at his brother as he wrote, Sam was fairly sure he wasn't going to wake him. Dean hadn't come back for a long while the night before and when he had, Sam had pretended to be asleep, not wanting to fight anymore. What good was it doing? 

He tossed the note pad and pen onto the table as he grabbed his laptop, backpack and duffel bag, shouldering the straps of each. Glancing down at the note, Sam grabbed for his jacket. 

**Dean,  
I know I messed up, I know I hurt you and for that, I'm sorry.  
You say you don't trust me, well, maybe I don't trust me either, at least as far as the blood thing goes.  
Sure, I think I'm clean, but who knows, right?  
I think maybe we should just split up. Go our separate ways, it's probably for the best.  
And Dean, about Ruby, I always loved you. Still do.  
Take care of yourself Dean.  
Love always,  
Sam**

With a sigh, Sam turned toward the door, gripping the handle as he looked back toward his sleeping brother, giving a small soft smile. "Bye, Dean," he whispered, before pulling the door open and walking out. 

*

Dean woke up tired. Felt like he'd been beat up, or had a hangover, or both. Eyes practically closed, he headed or the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he came out showered and with a towel slung around his waist. "Any coff--" He saw that Sam's bed was empty. Great, he'd probably gone to get some.

He was a bit grateful for that, not wanting to face Sam before he was ready. 

By the time he finished dressing, he knew Sam should be back. The coffee shop was only half a block away. First thing his mind went to was ... what the hell was Sam doing out there alone, maybe he was out looking for a demon to suck. Angry at himself, he looked over to the desk and saw that the laptop was gone. Leaning, he saw that Sam's backpack was gone too. 

Wearing a deep frown, he walked slowly to the table and picked up the note. Every word stabbed him like a sonovabitch. His lips were pressed into an angry white line by the time he was done. "Did you love me when you were tearing her clothes off? When you were kissing her? Shoving your dick into her?" He crumpled the paper up and tossed it into the trash can.... missing.

"Sonovabitch... sonovabitch, Sammy." He fought to control his emotions. Not to walk out the door, get into his car and go find him. Drag his ass back. Make him explain. Make him tell him something that he could buy, that he could understand, that he could forgive. But 'I always loved you, Dean'... that didn't fucking cut it.

His nostrils flared. Dropping down onto the bed, elbows braced on his knees, he dry scrubbed his face. He didn't know what he wanted. Sam here with him... his face... a constant reminder, or Sam gone? What the hell did it matter what he wanted, Sam hadn't even fucking consulted him. Standing, he wiped his forearm across the table, shoving all their articles and personal effects onto the ground with a shout. "Fine Sammy, you do what you want."

Eyes burning with unshed tears, Dean started to pack his own gear. Ten minutes later, he slammed his door and was roaring away in his car, getting the hell away from there as quickly as possible.

* * *

Between hitching and catching buses, Sam made it halfway across the country, keeping in touch with Bobby as he went. Each time, his thumb hovered over Dean's number on his cell, and each time, he bypassed it, pressing Bobby's number instead, asking the elder hunter about his brother. How he was. Where he was. If he seemed to be doing alright. Each time Bobby tried to get Sam to call his brother, Sam told him no, that he couldn't, that _he_ was the last person Dean wanted to talk to. 

Snatching up his phone, Bobby rolled the wheel chair to his window and looked out. "You done with your foolishness now, boy?"

Sam frowned, swallowing as his gaze darted about the bus depot, "Um, guess not. How - how is he, Bobby?"

"I don't know, you tell me." He was tired of playing operator between the boys, and he wasn't going to do it anymore.

Sam shook his head, frowning thoughtfully, "I wouldn't know. Probably a lot happier now that he doesn't have to deal with me everyday, huh?" he ran a hand through his hair, "Look, if - if you hear from him and for some reason he asks, tell him," he nodded, "tell him I'm good." Sam glanced toward the door as they called for the bus to Sacramento. "Look, Bobby, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Take care of yourself. Bye." Sam snapped his cell closed and hefted his bags, heading toward the door.

The older hunter picked up his cap, ran a hand over his hair and slapped the cap back down. Forget the apocalypse, John's boys were going to give him gray hairs. Funny how different and yet alike they were. When Sam called, he was direct. Dean... Dean had never called him so often, but he never asked, he just waited, acted as if he didn't care whether Bobby gave him an update or not, but he knew the purpose of the damned call wasn't to just ask after his health. He wished he were mobile and could just knock those idjits' heads together. If there was ever a time for family to stick together, it was at the End of Days.

* * *

Walking into the Sacramento bus depot, Sam checked the maps and schedules for the next bus and to where. He had no idea where he was going, just knew that he needed to _go_. 

Eyeing the schedules, Sam frowned, huffing softly, his attention focused on the fact that none of the areas seemed to be far enough away, from _what_ exactly, he still wasn't sure. 

The guy standing beside him, glanced over at Sam, then at the schedules and back. "Where ya headed?" 

Sam glanced over at him and offered a small smile as he shook his head, "Nowhere, any where," he shrugged, "I dunno." 

The guy nodded, "Been there." 

Sam looked back over at the guy and raised his eyebrows, before reaching for a pamphlet and turning to walk away shaking his head, "I doubt that." Sam mumbled. 

The guys followed Sam to where Sam took a seat and sat down next to him. "You don't mind do you?" the guy asked, glancing at the floor, then up into Sam's face. 

Sam shrugged, "Whatever makes you happy." He sighed, looking at the pamphlet. 

"So who are you running from?" the guy asked. 

Sam shook his head, not looking at the guy. "Not running from anyone." 

"Really? Seems to me like you are, and if it's not a someone then it's a some _thing_." 

Sam slowly looked over at him. 

"Drugs? Alcohol?" the guy asked him, nodding, "Been there. My family deserted me too, just when I needed them the most." 

Sam tore his gaze away, looking back at the pamphlet, "Mine," he licked his lips, "My brother," he shook his head, "he doesn't trust me anymore. Yells... A LOT," he huffed. 

"At least he still cares enough to yell," the guy countered, "Maybe you still have something there worth stickin around for." He shrugged, "I dunno, but it's somethin' to think about. Beats spending days and nights in cold bus depots talkin' to assholes like me who," he held up Sam's money clip, "were planning to steal from you. Here." He handed it back to Sam and slapped him on the shoulder, "Think about what I said about your brother." The guy pulled to his feet and walked away into the crowd.

* * *

Dean was knocking back drinks like they were gonna run out. Its what he did in between jobs, in between chasing omens and tips about how else the world was sliding into a cesspool. He was with other hunters, brothers in arm, separate but together. It probably made sense that there was more camaraderie between them now, with everything that was happening.

"To sure death," one of them said, raising his shot glass. Everyone downed their liquor.

"To kicking demon ass on the way down," another one shouted.

The hunter next to Dean was quiet, more subdued than the rest. In fact at first glance, Dean might not have even guessed at his occupation. He reminded him of someone. Someone who no longer exited. Thinking of Sam, thinking of what he’d been like when Dean had practically forced him away from Stanford to chase after dad, a lump rose in his throat. He'd been gentle, reluctant... he'd been the voice of reason on their hunts. And then things changed, and Sam was the one who wanted the hunt even more than Dean, who wanted to win, who didn't care about the cost. At first, Dean had been impressed. Relieved even. Now he was just...

Dean ran his hand through his hair. "What's your story?" he asked.

"No story. Just trying ta live through the day," Paul answered, looking over at Dean. 

"There's always a story." He motioned for the bar tender to give him a new round of shots. 

"Hey Paul," another hunter walked up and slapped the boy on the back. "Where's your other half? I still owe Peter a kick in the..." Seeing the look of anguish in Paul's eyes, and the way he grabbed a whole bottle, he nodded. "Sorry man, he was a good guy." Patting him on the shoulder this time, he walked away.

Paul wiped the liquor off his mouth, and took a deep breath. 

"Your partner?" Dean wasn't usually that intrusive, but he'd had a lot of drinks.

"Brother," he answered woodenly. "Twin." His jaw worked as he tried to speak, but nothing came out. 

"Sorry." Dean pushed one of his shot glasses in front of Paul. "He died fighting evil, it's the hunter's way."

"He died fighting me," Paul ground out, taking the shot, and getting up. "See ya on the other side."

Dean felt like he'd been kicked in he gut. Looking down, he swirled the liquid in the shot glass around. Brother against brother, what kind of fucked up war was this? And he wasn't thinking about Paul and Peter. How many more shots before he could just stop thinking? How many more before he could erase the memories he hated, and go back to a time where he'd known Sam, and Sam had known him... and nothing, no fucking black eyed bitch could get between them.

* * *

Dean was pissed. His last couple phone calls to Bobby netted him no information about Sam. Dammit, Bobby knew that's what he was really calling about, and yet the older hunter acted all chipper or businesslike, and didn't even mention Sam's name. Last thing he'd heard was Sam was traveling around, taking odd jobs, finding himself. He was staying away from the hunt, but Dean... even hearing it, wasn't absolutely sure. Still, even fake news was better than no news.

Peeling his clothes off, one by one he tossed them onto the table. Sam wasn't there to nag at him about being messy, so he could be as freaking messy as he wanted. Goddamnit, how many times a day did he have to think about Sam? He had to put this behind him, had to, if he wanted to be ahead of the pack, and on his best game. He couldn't let Sam distract him even when he wasn't physically around.

He pulled the sheets up and got into bed, not even bothering to turn the t.v. on. He was tired, and a little drunk, and praying... praying his mind would stop throwing questions and shit at him and just let him rest.

Sam stood with his back pressed against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest as he looked from Dean in the bed, to the mess of clothes and back. "You're a slob, ya know that? Cleanliness is next to Godliness, Dean."

Shooting up to a sitting position, Dean stared at his brother, head cocked to the side. "Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled away from the wall and started over toward the pile of clothes tossed about the room. "Yeah, Dean, who else yells at you about the messes you make?" he asked, snatching up a a shirt and shaking it out.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in... bumfuck minesota." He stared at him, part of him hungry for the sight of his brother, part of him still angry as hell. "Is something... something happening?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean and huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, something is happening alright. I let Lucifer out of his prison, remember?" he gave a small smirk, turning his attention back to shaking out the clothes he was busily picking up and laying neatly on the table. "Got tired of running," he shrugged a shoulder, "decided to face my demons head on." He paused in his movements, a smile tugging at his lips before he turned around completely, smile still held in place as he looked at Dean, "I did that pretty well before, faced my demon head on," he winked.

"What? What are you talking about?" Dean frowned. Was he fucking joking about that shit, to him of all people? "What the hell are you doing?"

Sam leaned back against the table and cocked his head to the side, leaning his hands back on the wooden surface behind him. "What am I doing? I’m talking to you," he frowned glancing down, "and cleaning up after you." His gaze rose to meet Dean's once more as he licked his lips. "What's the matter? You can't seem to stop thinking about it, can't get it out of your head," he shrugged a shoulder, "I just thought we would throw it all out there, lay it on the table. You're pissed," he nodded, "I get that. I do, but hey it wasn't all my fault and you know it." 

"Then whose fault was it, Sam?" Dean's jaw seemed to lock. He stared at the door, knowing one of them better walk out of it. "It sure as hell wasn't me who lied and kept lying. Who got hooked on demon sex and blood. Who wouldn't listen, not to my brother, not to Bobby, not to anyone... anyone but her. You know they're evil, that they lie, you're smart... but you chose her, above everything, above everyone. Above me," he said in a broken whisper. 

"What I _chose_ was a way to get rid of the bitch that damned _you_ to hell! Admit it, the _only_ reason it bothers you at all is because I fucked her, because I did it and not you, because you weren't there telling me how to do everything! You know, it became easy after a while... being with her. She was so much like you," Sam shook his head and chuckled, "always telling me what I needed to be doing, how I needed to do it. Maybe that was why fucking her came so easily," his eyes narrowed, "because it was just. like. you..."

Every word comparing him to Ruby cut him a thousand ways. "This is the last straw, the last fucking straw. Get outta here Sam, get the fuck out, before I make you," he snarled, hands balled at his sides. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with the effort, his mind rejecting everything Sam just said. His head jerked up suddenly, and he pulled the blankets off. "Just who the hell are you?"

Sam's eyes suddenly glowed yellow as a smile split his face, his head tilting back as deep demonic laughter rang out, sounding like something from 'The Exorcist'. 

Dean jacknifed up, a cold sweat covering his body. He took a couple calming breaths of air as his eyes adjusted to the dark. His heart was still hammering against his chest, even when he knew it had been a fucking nightmare.

The figure standing in the darkened room, tilted his head as he watched the Winchester before him, his stance exactly as Dean's nightmare vision of Sam had been, leaning back against the table, palms pressed against it's wooden surface behind him. "*What were you dreaming about, Dean?*" Castiel asked, voice devoid of emotion. 

"Cas..." he let out another breath. Never had he been as happy to see the angel, something to chase away the awful dream. "Nothing... nothing worth talking about." He put his feet down on the floor, scrubbed his face and looked at Castiel. "Unless you're a dream reader." 

Castiel pulled away from the table as he licked his lips, his gaze on the opposite wall in front of him. "You should call your brother." 

"No." The word cracked like a whip and had the ring of finality.

The angel paused in his steps to look over at the Winchester, his charge. "Dean, Lucifer has a vessel, you and your brother have brought about the end of the world, now is _not_ the time for these petty differences. Make amends and move on," he looked away, "You're stronger together than apart." 

"You don't know what you're talking about." Castiel didn't know what they'd meant to each other, all the ways Sam had betrayed him, things that weren't exactly forgivable or forgettable. "We're not stronger together if I'm always wondering how the hell else he's fucking shit up, which demon has him in her palm, whether he's drinking. That doesn't spell _stronger_ Cas."

Castiel looked back at the Winchester, "There are bigger things going on here besides whether or not Sam coupled with a demon when he was suppose to be with you," the angel's azure gaze held Dean's as he gave a small nod, "yes, I know about that, Dean. As for Sam, what he does or doesn't do is not your problem, but Sam's alone. Right now, you need to focus on what the two of you can do together. *I have killed angels for you, have become a rogue angel, I am on the run and no longer have many of my powers, cut off from heaven and I did it all for you and your brother*. Time to grow up, Dean. Time for both of you to grow up." 

Dean gave a snort. "That's easy advice, when you don't feel. You can't just order your feelings around. I tried, believe me, I fucking tried... and they wouldn't stay buried." He started to pace. "I used to think there was nothing Sam could do, be, that would push me away, you know? He was fed demon blood, might have something evil in him, had freaky powers, turned into a killing machine for a while... I took all of that in stride. I guess we all have a line somewhere, and he crossed it big time. Problem is, I _am_ grown up. I know I don't need him... I can live without him."

Castiel turned his head, staring intently at Dean. "Can you?" he nodded, "Because you might have to." with that the angel was gone in a rustle of wings.

For a long time, Dean stared at the empty space in shock. Castiel couldn't mean... Slowly he walked back to his bed and sat down, holding his face in his hands. He couldn't bury his brother, not then, not now. 

* * * 

Three months felt like years. Dean must have aged two lifetimes already. He'd known the end of days would be bad and get worse. His mind had not grasped the horrors that were possible. ‘Horrors’... that was an understatement. He'd faced monsters, and demons, he'd faced things that should... could drive a man mad. But worst of all was the destruction. The dead bodies heaped thigh high. Having to climb over the dead and the dying, rivers of human blood painting the roads and sidewalks, children walking wide eyed and in shock, hands bloodied from trying to wake the dead. And there was nothing he could do, nothing. Yet he tried, every fucking day, he tried.

He staggered into the rustic bar. Someone had painted over the old name, written "World's End" across the sign. It was in red, appropriate. Dean put two bottles of water on the bar. That's what you did these days, traded. Money was worth nothing. The bar tender opened one of them and took a taste, and nodded. "Anything you want," he said.

"Wiskey... double." Hunched over his drink, he thought about his last conversation with Bobby. The hunter hadn't heard from Sam, at all. It was like his brother was wiped off the map, or lay buried under all those bodies. The not knowing. That was the worst. He knocked back half his drink, grabbed the bottle before the bar tender could walk away, and poured again.

*

Sometime during the mess that continued to get messier, Sam had stopped taking odd jobs and gone back to trying to help people, to hunt and do his part, to put the wrong things right again, but it was like a floodgate had opened and there was nothing he could do. Nothing that was good enough. He'd helped save a handful of people in a small town a few weeks back, but even now he wondered if he hadn't saved them from one threat only to have another take it's place and wipe them all out. One of the women there had been pregnant and he'd had a hard time telling her, lying to her, and saying that her baby would make it, that _she_ would make it. 

Somewhere in it all, Sam had lost his cell, but it wasn't one of those things you worried about now. Something as insignificant as a phone was the last thing you thought about. Besides, who was he going to call? It wasn't like he was Dean with an angel keeping tabs on him and he didn't need to keep bothering Bobby, the man had his own troubles to deal with. Somehow, in all the chaos he had still managed to get rides from strangers and had found his way here, to this small town where he sat now at a booth in the back, shoulders hunched as fingertips twirled the small glass of liquor that he normally would never have ordered. Though these days found you doing a lot of things you would normally never do, along with drinking yourself into oblivion if you could, just so you could get a few hours of sleep without nightmares. 

"Ya wantin' another" a woman asked him as she walked passed his booth. 

Sam shook his head, "No, thanks," he nodded, "I'm - I'm good," he answered, though he didn't raise his head as he continued to stare into the glass, watching the amber substance swirl and thinking about his brother, wondering where Dean was, if he was alright. Did he ask about him anymore? Think about him.... ever?

Someone came up to the bar, had some good news to share, a victory in one town ... one, in fifty losses, one victory. Dean stood up, "drinks are on me... everyone," he said, knocking back his whiskey as people clamored to the bar. He nodded at the bar tender, he had more to trade, to pay.

Sam looked up hearing the voices at the bar, the one deep voice which stood out among the others. _Dean?_ It couldn't be. But, as people started to move, break up from where they were congregating, Sam caught a glimpse of him sitting there and his eyes widened, lips parting. "Dean?" he called out.

That voice, the weight of that gaze, Dean shifted around and stood stock still. Sam!


	2. Chapter 2

A moment passed, then Dean curled his fingers around his refilled glass on the bar and walked over. He sat down across form Sam and grabbing him by the collar, dragged him practically across the table. "You couldn't call. Say something about where you were. Godddamit, I thought you were... that you..." Dean's voice broke, and he looked away, releasing Sam just as abruptly as he'd grabbed him.

When Dean grabbed him, Sam braced for the punch that never came, jaw set as he looked at his brother in silence. Sliding wordlessly back across the table, Sam cleared his throat. "Never called me either, Dean," he mumbled softly, tearing his gaze away. Looking back after a moment, Sam frowned, "I, uh, lost my cell 'bout a week ago in some town I was in." He shrugged, "How - how are you?" he searched his brother's face.

Dean had no answer to that, not really. "What about Bobby, you could have fucking called him." He took a couple deep breaths, and shook his head. "Is that a trick question? I don't even know anymore, Sammy. I don't know." His gaze rested on his brother's lips, desire instantly mixing with questions, what demon tongues had been in that mouth since Sam walked away?

Sam pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping to the table top as he nodded, "Yeah," his tongue darted out to lick his lips as silence stretched uncomfortably between them. He glanced back up at Dean, offering a small smile. "Well, it's - it's good to see you anyway. I've missed you." He tore his gaze away, reaching for his glass and downing the liquid, thankful for the burn that stole his voice away for a moment. 

"Yeah," he swept his hand across his face, staring at Sam, almost as if he was afraid his brother would disappear into the ether again. "Where you... staying?" he asked, his voice sounding rough, husky with emotion. He'd been so fucking lonely, always looking behind him, always wondering where Sam was, what he was doing, whether Castiel had been right.

Lowering the glass slowly, Sam shook his head as he cleared his throat. "Not." He licked his lips, "I was just dropped off here a little while ago," he shrugged a shoulder, offered a small tight smile, "pit stop. You? You stayin' here?" 

"Upstairs," he nodded. "You wanna..." He ddn't even know what he was asking, what he wanted from Sam. 

Sam raised his brows, "Do I wanna...?" he licked his lips before tearing his gaze from Dean's, forearms braced on the table top as he stared down at it, brows furrowed. He shook his head slowly. "I still can't change anything that happened," he said softly.

"Fine. Just forget it." Dean tossed his cell onto the table. "Use this some time. I'll get another." Turning his back, he went to the bar, grabbed the bottle, and then headed up the stairs. He could just pretend this never happened, drink until he forgot it. Yeah, that's exactly what he was gonna do.

Sam pulled from the booth, grabbing the cell as he did, "Dean, wait!" he called out. _Dammit._

Looking over his shoulder, Dean disappeared up the stairs, first door on the right was his, and he leaned against it for a moment, before pulling away and opening it. No, he knew none of this made sense, the emotions raging through him, driving him crazy, but he couldn't help it. He'd lost everything, so what the fuck made him think he could find a little piece of heaven for just one moment in his fucked up life?

Sam swore softly under his breath, hand gripping the cell tighter, remembering a day when he would have thrown it in anger. A day when the demon blood would have had him in its grip by now and he would have been like a raging bull. Suddenly all of the fight left Sam in a rush, leaving him with a sinking feeling, his head hanging, shoulders once more slumped as he sighed softly. Biting his lip, he glanced toward the stairs from under his bangs. Taking a deep breath, Sam pulled his head up and headed toward them and up.

Knocking on the door to Dean's room, Sam waited. He wasn't sure why he was there, wasn't sure what this would accomplish, but if nothing else, he wanted to leave on a good note, not with Dean angry once again.

Dean pulled the door open, face stoney, trying to harden his heart, to protect it. It had been torn into so many pieces already, there was nothing left. He was wrong, because the words welling in his throat just wouldn't stay there. "One night, give me one night... then you can go back wherever the hell it is you call home now," he said. Desperate, wanting one taste, one more 'hit' before he died.

Sam frowned and bit his lip as he sighed softly. "Does that mean you're gonna let me in?"

"You playing games?" Dean cocked his head to the side, but moved out of the way, heat filling his eyes. 

Sam shook his head as he walked in, frowning, "No, Dean. No games. Why would I?" he turned to face his brother as he stood in the middle of the room. "In case you haven't noticed, some jerk let Lucifer outta the box."

"Yeah... and I hear his bitch of a brother made it all possible. Some fucked up family, huh?" Dean gave up. Moving to sit on the bed, he drank a little more. Maybe he didn't want one more night. Maybe all he wanted was some peace... just a little peace.

Sam smiled as he lifted his head, then steeled his expression into one of seriousness. "Well, to be fair, I hear it was _really_ all the angels' and demons' faults," he shrugged a shoulder, "Pawns."

He snorted. "Yeah, who knew, huh?" It was just like Sam said, "we're stuck in some chess game they're playing, and we're their butt monkeys." He pointed at Sam with his bottle. "I'm not playing anymore. I quit. Just quit." Yeah, he'd said that before. Then he'd be faced with dead bodies, eyes damning him for not being there, and he'd be sucked right back in. 

"Yeah?" Sam huffed, "You're better off than me then." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "got sucked back in." He offered a small smile.

"Yeah well, I quit every other day." Dean looked at his brother. Gaunter, paler, but just like he remembered. "Longest I've lasted is fifteen hours," he sniffed, then looked at the bottle. "I'm tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing." Leaning back against the pillows, he looked back, "remember the days when winning didn't mean that you saved five out of twenty?"

Sam nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the table and chairs, pulling one out as he took a step back and took a seat. "Yeah, I remember. Just one family at a time, one small section of a town at most," he shook his head. "Was at a town a week ago, fighting off demons for days with what was left of the place. S'where I lost my phone, somewhere between trying to get this couple outta dodge and running interference," he looked away, "I dunno, just lost it."

"Castiel is still looking for God. Zachariah is still after me with this vessel thing. Lucifer, I think he's in my dreams. Lost cell phone... I think you can stop worrying about that," he gave a harsh laugh. 

Sam looked back over at his brother and chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, guess so." Sobering, Sam licked his lips, "So, the Michael thing, what - I mean, would you be you again? If you can end this...." he frowned, brows drawing together before he hung his head, shaking it, "Never - nevermind."

"Like Jimmy was allowed to be Jimmy again?" Dean's chin rose. "You can't trust 'em, even when they have the best intentions." He was pretty sure Castiel hadn't wanted to inflinct such damage on his vessel.

Sam nodded, "Yeah," he swallowed, lifting his head to look over at Dean. "But Jimmy's daughter, she could fill in, I mean Cas was in her too, could -" he sighed and shook his head, "Nevermind." Sam looked away once more, muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Still wouldn't get his life back. None of us will." Guess that was just a fact they all had to deal with. 

"Yeah," Sam mumbled, "I wasn't exactly expecting to be here myself after," he shrugged a shoulder and glanced over at his brother, "wasn't aware this had all been part of _'the plan'_." Sitting back in the chair, Sam frowned, looking over at Dean. "So, still no sign of God, eh?" he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I feel like we're in a really bad retelling of Dogma," he frowned harder at Dean, "and yes I have _you_ to thank for that knowledge," he huffed, but the corners of his lips turned up into a small smile despite himself.

Dean snorted. "Well, see how useful it is? I'm sure you're glad you saw the movie now." He took a swig of the wiskey and raised the bottle. "You want some? I don't think we need to worry about our livers anymore." Yeah maybe they could both get riproaring drunk, one last hoorah.

Sam smiled as he pulled from the chair, walking over to the bedside, where he sat down to take the offered bottle of liquor. "No need to worry about liver failure, huh?" he tilted the bottle to his lips taking a swing, making a face as the strong stuff burned it's way down his throat, before handing it back. 

"No need to worry about a lot of things," Dean nodded, setting the bottle down. "You... staying clean?" he asked, the words slipping out before he could prevent them.

Sam huffed softly as he looked down, having wondered when Dean would get around to asking. He nodded, slowly raising his head to look back at Dean, "Yeah. ...I am." He looked away again. "Been times I thought about it, been tempted," he looked back, "Been damn tempted, but... yeah, so far so good."

Dean stared at him, afraid to believe. Because when he believed, that's when things came crashing down the hardest. 

Sam frowned as he looked at his brother. "You... don't believe me." he sighed, "what do you want me to do, Dean? I can't... I don't know how to prove it to you. But, it's the truth. Hell, ask your buddy Castiel, I'm sure he knows."

"My buddy? Castiel?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I'll waste his time with... this." It was true, Cas thought their issues were unimportant and childish, that's what the angel had said. 

Sam huffed, but said nothing more as he reached for the bottle of whiskey again, taking a long pull before lowering the bottle, sputtering softly as he made a face. "Oh right, cause he's busy, looking for _God_." Sam rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, he is. And out for us... me. What the hell is your problem?" He reached out. "Gimme that, you never could hold your liquor." It didn't escape him that Sam was close, sitting on the bed next to him for the first time in forever. That he could feel the heat of his body, remember so many things. Some of the memories hurt too much. He lifted the bottle to his lips.

Sam frowned. "Nothin's wrong with me. What's wrong with you!? You and your holier than thou attitude with your angels," he huffed and shook his head, lifting a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger as he squeezed his eyes closed, licking his lips. Letting his hand fall away, Sam allowed his body to fall back across the bed, "Uuugh! I haven't drank this much since..." he frowned, letting his sentence die away, staring up at the ceiling instead. _Since after you died._ Yeah, he wasn't gonna go there, wasn't going to relive that time in his life. 

He licked his lips, "So, if you were the creator of the universe and the world was going to hell in a hand basket because some stupid ass let Lucifer outta his cage, where would you hide?" Sam mumbled, frowning thoughtfully.

"If he's hiding... we got ourselves a bigger assed problem. Wait... you think he's out there?" Dean turned his head. He thought Castiel was the only nut to believe it.

Sam turned his head to look over at his brother, "Yeah, I mean, I hope so." He shrugged a shoulder before turning his head back to stare back up at the ceiling. "I should probably get a room," Sam mumbled after a moment, frowning.

Despair welled up inside Dean, just like that. His jaw ached, his eyes stung. He didn't say anything, but took yet another drink he didn't need.

Sam looked over at his brother, "What's the matter?" he frowned, "You got quiet." He licked his lips and rolled over onto his stomach, reaching for the bottle, "If I'm going to help you finish this, you don't need me passing out in your bed." He gave a small smile, "and I don't want to wake up on the floor where you shove me," he teased.

"You just keep leaving, guess it's a talent. Do what you want, Sammy. I get it alright? You're all grown up," he forced a smile. He didn't even have the comfort of his amulet since Castiel took the damned thing. "You can have the bottle."

Sam sat up, too fast so it made his head spin, but he was pissed so he tried to ignore it, only grimacing slightly. "What the hell do you mean, it's a talent!? I keep leaving!? I didn't-" he huffed and pulled from the bed. "You know, I don't even know why I try! Anything else you wanna throw in my face!? How about Ruby!? Go ahead, toss that at me again while you're at it! Oh and the blood and that I let out Lucifer and all this is MY fucking fault!!!"

"I am _not_ doing this again, Sam. I'm just not. It's done, it's over. You did it, I did it, what the fuck does it matter? Does it change anything? I"m too tired. Too alone." He lay back and rubbed his hand over his face. "And nothing I say is right anyway. I ask you to stay, your throw it in my face. I let you leave, you ..." he waved his hand, indicating his outburst at the offer. "Do whatever you want... whatever you're doing. The world's a mess, I'm a mess..."

Sam frowned, "You asked me to stay!? No, you asked me to..." he huffed and looked away, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't walk away from you. I left because I thought it was best, because you didn't trust me, _I_ didn't trust me." He shook his head, "Didn't you read my note?" He moved to sit back down on the edge of the bed. "What do you mean you _let_ me leave? I go and then I what?" he hung his head shaking it. 

"You said you wanted to go... I told you you could, then you went ballistic, that's what. I don't know... I don't know anything anymore, alright. Do what you want, its okay with me." He stared at Sam's profile. Once he would have thought nothing of dragging him down on top of him, to quiet the voices in his head, the doubts, to push the world away.

Sam's head turned, slightly slanted hazel eyes searching his brother's face, lingering on his lips for too long a moment, long enough that Sam was sure they both had realized it. Tearing his gaze away, he licked his own. "Sorry," he said softly, head hanging once more. 

"For what?" Dean asked thickly. Every cell in his body was crying, clamoring for one thing... one thing only. But Dean Winchester didn't even get a 'last meal'... it wasn't how things worked for him.

Sam shook his head giving a small huff, before he looked back over at his brother, "I think we both know the answer to that," he told him, before his gaze again darted down to Dean's lips, his tongue darting out, the tip of which running slowly over his own. Taking a deep breath, Sam closed his eyes and leaned in. "You can punch me later," he told him softly, brushing his lips over Dean's.

"Oh, I will," Dean answered, taking the gift Sam offered. At first, he didn't touch him, just... just let their mouths touch, rub across each others'. A lot like that first time, when neither of them had been sure. When they hadn't known what the hell they were doing... starting. Then he licked the seam of Sam's mouth, groaning when his brother parted his lips and let him inside. Sliding his hand up Sam's side, he wrapped his hand around the back of Sam's neck, cupping it as he drew him closer, slowly exploring the depths of his mouth. So good, it had been so good between them. He tasted tears, and Sam, and there was no more powerful combination, not for him. There never had been.

Sam moaned softly, even as stray tears fell from his closed eyes. His hands moving, reaching up to grip fistfulls of Dean's shirts, pulling him closer. His chest aching at the bittersweet meeting of their mouths, remembering how good it had been, could have been again if he hadn't messed it all up, hadn't been so focused on revenge that he had forgotten the prize was standing there right before him, alive again. 

Lips a hairs breadth apart, Sam smiled softly. "Missed that, you, us." Lashes fluttered as his eyes opened to look up into his brother's as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, though he still didn't move back, still didn't let go of Dean's shirts, just stayed as he was, looking at him.

"Missed you... us," Dean nodded, stealing another kiss, but still wary . "I tried you know? Tried to forget... to put this, us behind me," his voice caught. He sniffed. "I can't... even with all that's happened, Sam, I can't." 

Sam shook his head, "I'm sorry Dean, I'm so sorry." He leaned in again, pressing his lips, open mouthed against Dean's, hot breaths mingling before he closed his mouth as Dean did, the kiss small, then opening again as Sam's tongue darted inside to stroke the roof of Dean's mouth and slide alongside Dean's tongue. Small moans and whimpers leaving Sam.

"Me too... sorry Sammy," he answered between kisses, holding Sam tight, like he would never let him go again. "Maybe if I'd been easier to talk to. Not so hardline," he said, running his mouth along Sam's jaw, then nibbling his throat. "Maybe we could have ... discussed things, not let things go so far." The Ruby thing, the secrets... Sam had to have known that he wouldn't even discuss that as an option, so he'd hidden it. But what if he'd felt free to talk about it, what if Dean had then been able to talk him out of it? Get him help early on, before he was stuck, committed to Ruby's plan?

"No, S'my fault, I should have told you," Sam told him between kisses and nips, between moans and gasps. "I knew better, S'me, and I'm sorry," he captured Dean's lips again, kissing him hard, one hand releasing his shirts to slide around him, press against his brother's back. It was true, way back in the beginning, he had known, but back then, he had been past caring about himself, caring about what happened to him and only caring about getting revenge. With no demon willing to deal with him, it had been the only option open, had been what he wanted to do, even though he had told Ruby countless time that he didn't trust her, not really. Somewhere along that line, things had gotten blurred, and like his phone, he'd gotten lost in the shuffle.

Dean ran his hand up and down Sam's side, suddenly catching the material of his tee and pulling it upwards. They broke the kiss for the span of time it took to get Sam free of his shirt, and then Dean was pulling him close again, and they were mouth to mouth. Oh he'd missed this, needed this, needed to feel his brother's body against him, to be on the same side, to give him something to fight for.

Rolling Sam onto his back, Dean straddled his body. He looked Sam in the eyes, told a few home truths. "We started this, you and I." He'd opened the first seal and Sam the last. "How're we gonna finish it, Sam? I vote for together... whatever happens. We either lock Lucifer where he belongs, or we burn... together."

Sam nodded, "Together... we'll fix this... somehow," he agreed, gazing up at his brother, his hands moving to run up and down Dean's jean clad thighs, before sitting up and reaching for the hem of Dean's shirts, even as his mouth slanted over his brother's kissing him as he lifted the material, pulling away, long enough to pull them off, and toss them Sam wrapped his arms around his brother, and captured his mouth once more. So good, it was so good. Just like it always was between them. Sam had missed this so much, so very much.

Scooting closer, his groin pressing against Sam's belly, Dean groaned into Sam's mouth. His arms went around his brother, moving up and down his back, over rippling muscles, sliding down his sides. He knew Sam's body so well, knew it like it was his own body. It was good to know he hadn't forgotten, that he could still make his brother moan when he touched him just so, and that the same was true of Sam.

"Oh God, oh God baby, I think you're starting a damned apocalypse in my pants," he said, lifting up so Sam could unzip him. 

Sam pulled back, brows raised as he chuckled, "A what!?" he shook his head, "you know what? Nevermind." He snickered softly, bringing his hands to the button and zipper of his brother's jeans, nimble fingers opening them easily, before Sam dipped a hand down under the denim and cotton, palming his erection as he leaned in to brush his lips across Dean's.

"Oh yeah, oh... Sammy." Dean moved his hips, thrusting against Sam's hand as they kissed. He'd missed this ... but not just this... _them,_ their brand of humor, the way they knew what the other was saying, feeling... something they mighta lost for a while, but you couldn't just lose it forever after a lifetime of having it, could you? "Love you," he whispered the words that had been stuck in his throat for so long, too damned long. "I love you, no matter what ... I love you."

Sam tightened his arm around Dean, his hand running upward to tangle in his brother's short hair as his other hand tugged the material of Dean's jeans and boxers down to his thighs and out of the way, wrapping his brother's cock in his large hand, Sam started to pump him. "Love you too, always have, always will." He kissed Dean's neck and jaw, across to his lips, sucking his full bottom lips into his mouth, nipping it. "Only you," Sam shook his head, "gotta believe _that_ if nothing else."

_Only you._ Once he would have recoiled at those words, tossed Ruby into Sam's face. But he knew the difference between love and lust, had always known it. Hell, throughout his own life he'd known more lust than love. If he didn't think twice about most of his own lays, and he knew... knew that Sam never loved Ruby, he could get over that. He was over it, Dean told himself as he fucked Sam's fist, groaning out his name. "Okay... yeah, I believe," he said, hand sliding up behind Sam's head as he leaned forward and trapped Sam's mouth under his and started one helluva kissing session.

Sam groaned into his brother's mouth, as he pulled Dean closer, stroked him harder, grinding his own aching erection against him as they kissed, tongues tangling.

Tearing his mouth away from Dean's, Sam's panted breaths fanned his brother's face a moment as they locked gazes before Sam shifted, pushing Dean back onto the bed, his hands moving, pulling away from his brother's cock and the back of his head to guide him down to the bed. "Trust me," Sam muttered softly, before crawling backward on hands and knees so his face was level with his brother's weeping cock. Leaning down, Sam stuck his tongue out, licking a slow path up the length of Dean's cock and circling the tip, before licking down once more. "Stay still, don't move." Sam told him, hands moving to grip his brother's hips before he dipped his head again, repeating the action.

His protests had been cut off by his brother's demand that he _trust_ him. That had Dean complying faster than anything else Sam could have said or done at the moment. Then he was in fucking heaven. Sam's hot, wet tongue was teasing him, sending heat spiraling throughout his body with every lick, every stroke. He tried to lift his hips, making a frustrated sound when Sam prevented him. "More, need more," he grit out, his hand on Sam's back, his blunt nails digging into his brother as he urged him to take his cock. 

Sam smiled, chuckling softly, "Now who's in a rush?" They had always talked about the differences in their sexual styles, Sam being more agressive, fast, ready and raring to go, where Dean was more laid back, taking his time.

"No rush," Dean said, through gritted teeth, even though it killed him. "Just... put that mouth to use, like I taught you." Again, he tried jerking his hips up. "Sam!"

Sam smirked, dipping his head once more to take his brother's cock deep into his mouth, letting him bottom out against the back of his throat and swallowing. Humming around his brother's length, Sam started to move his mouth on Dean's cock, pulling his head up, then easing slowly back down, letting his tongue flick against the underside, his hands holding Dean's hips prisoner as he worked him.

"Yeah, oh yeah." Words broke from Dean's mouth, feelings ... long forgotten feelings washed over him, washed away the past, the loneliness, the apathy he'd been wearing like a cloak for so fucking long. "Good, so good, just like that... yeah..." Buried deep in the silky heat of Sam's mouth, Dean was almost feverish with need. His stomach muscles clenched and released, his head rolled from side to side, he had a hand on the back of Sam's head, pushing him down, struggling to fuck up into his mouth. When he reached a fever pitch, he shouted hoarsely, "no more... Sammy, need you!" 

Sam raised his head, letting Dean's dick fall from his lips with a small wet pop as he looked up at his face, licking his lips. Sam nodded, pulling up to sit back on his heels as his hands went to the fastenings of his jeans, making quick work of the button and zipper, then shoving his jeans down around his thighs, palming his aching cock in one hand. Stroking himself, Sam leaned back down over his brother, capturing his mouth in a hot kiss, breathy and demanding.

Reaching up, Dean pulled Sam down over him, lifting his hips and groaning as they came together. He ran his hands over hard muscles, over Sam's firm ass, rocking upwards as Sam's mouth moved over his. They kissed hard, neither one giving quarter, both of them needing to prove to themselves the other was still here... still with them. His brother's arousal ground into his hip, and from Sam's desperate movements, he could tell Sam was near breaking point too.

With one hard push, Sam was flat on his back and Dean was straddling him. Moving back, he grasped the bottom of Sam's jeans and pulled them off in one smooth motion, taking his shorts off at the same time. The sight of Sam's seeping cock, so hard for him, had Dean holding his breath. Without hesitation, he he closed his fingers around Sam and started to pump him. "Been wanting you, needing you. You don't know how bad it's been Sam. Waking up, and you're not there. Turning around, and no one's got my back. Going to a cold bed, you have no idea bro... no idea..." he said thickly.

Sam nodded, thrusting his cock up into Dean's fisted hand, "Yeah, I do..." he told him breathlessly, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a groan, eyes closing for a moment before opening once more. "Been right there too. Missing having you there, always with me. Wanting you and then not having you there, wishing the bed wasn't so damn wide, and cold." he nodded, "yeah, been there," Sam told him, arching his back, as he reached up, pulling his brother down to him. 

Damn, Sam was strong. Dean fell on him full force, groaning at how good Sam felt under him, his powerful, muscular body pushing back against him, his arms pulling him down, molding him close, so fucking close he could barely breath. Covering Sam's mouth with his, he started to tongue fuck him, thrusting against Sam in tandem with the motions of his tongue, giving him a preview. He needed Sam, this... so bad. Had, for so long. 

Sam's hands moved, cupping each side of Dean's head as they kissed, Sam's head moving side to side, teeth nipping his brother's lips, tongues tangling, teeth knocking as their mouths battled, the kiss deepening into something nearly brutal. Sam grinding up against his brother, his hips thrusting his hard weeping cock into Dean's hand. Moans and groans breaking from deep in Sam's throat. "Mmm...s'good, s'good. More, Mmm, God, more..." Sam breathed into the kiss.

"God yeah..." Fuck, how could he have given this up, given Sam up? How could he have agreed to let him walk the hell away from him? He put everything he had into the kiss, showing him how much he loved him, needed him, wanted him. The heat between them burned so fucking hot, he thought if he kept this up for too long, he'd lose it. "Need to feel you from the inside," he whispered hotly against Sam's ear. "Want to fuck you... want to be part of you, again."

A small sound like a whimper tore from Sam's throat as he nodded, "Yeah," his hands moved lower to Dean's jeans where they were caught low around his thighs, tugging at them to get them down, off. Sam continued to kiss his brother, mouths hittingand missing, tongues tangling inside and outside of their mouths, breaths panting into one anothers' mouth. Their hands grasped, pushed and shoved at the remaining clothes in a rush to be completely naked.

Once they were free of clothes, Dean gave him one last hard kiss and got off him, pulling him up. "Up against the headboard, spread em." 

Sam's lips curved upward into a small slight grin before he rolled over, pulling up onto his knees. Moving the pillows out of the way, Sam positioned himself up against the headboard, his backside facing Dean, his front against the headboard and wall, legs spread wide as he knelt there, head turned to the side, looking back at his brother. "C'mere."

He bit his lip as he watched Sam scramble up the bed, his gaze lingering on that tight ass. "Oh, I plan to." Crawling up the bed, he rolled onto his back, and pushed his head under the pyramid of Sam's thighs, stretching his tongue out and licking his ass. "C'mere... gonna lick you open," he said, one hand on Sam's hip, pulling him down, the other pulling one ass cheek to the side.

Looking down at his brother, Sam shifted his position slightly, hands moving from laying against the wall to grip the headboard as he leaned back slightly, squatting down and shifting his leg stance wider to lower himself down over Dean. Biting his lip, Sam sucked in a breath, his head lifting to tilt back slightly. "Mmm... better?" he asked breathlessly.

Unable to answer, Dean licked Sam's hole and then started to push his tongue inside. He used a thumb to open Sam up, then started to pulse his tongue up and down, pushing as deep as he could and wetting Sam real good. 

Sam gasped, eyes closing as his head fell back, small moans and mewls sounding deep in his throat.

He wished he could see Sam's face, but he could hear the small sounds he made, he could feel him rocking slightly... knew he was hard as hell.

Sam sucked in a ragged breath, head raising as he opened his eyes. "Oh God... Dean..." he panted, moaned and rocked back and down, against his brother's tongue harder. "Naaugh!... Fuck!" Sam released the headboard with one hand, reaching down to wrap his hand around his aching cock, staring to pump his weeping flesh into his fisted hand.

Dean managed to slide some of his fingers along the seam of Sam's balls, even as he continued moving his thumb inside him and peneterating him over and over with his tongue. He didn't stop, not until he had him good and wet, and desperate, until he could tell Sam was on the edge, just by the fact that he was less careful as he came down on his face. 

Pulling his tongue out, then his finger, he nipped Sam's ass to make him move up, then got out from under him. The sight of his brother squatting, fucking his fist, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead, his eyes closed, was so fucking hot, Dean thought he might come. Plastering himself up behind Sam, forcing him back up onto his knees, he cupped the side of his face and started to kiss him. "Need you so much Sam, in my life, need you." 

Sam twisted his upper body half around, nearly attacking his brother's mouth with his own, kissing him hungrily as he reached back with one hand, digits tangling in Dean's hair as he held onto him, grinding back against him. "Need you, always need you, Dean," he told him breathlessly, a groan sounding deep in his throat, breaths panting out. "Show me," Sam told him softly, slightly slanted hazel eyes opened to mere passion glazed slits searched his brother's face for a moment before he gave a slight nod. "Show me."

"I'll show you," he agreed, licking across Sam's mouth before pushing him against the headboard again. He aligned his cock, wrapped an arm tightly around Sam's waist and started to push inside him. Their mutual groans made him ache that much more to be inside Sam once again, to know him from the inside, to be a part of him. As he pushed past that tight ring of muscle, and felt Sam clench around him, a deep growl left his throat.

Putting his free arm across Sam's chest, he grabbed his shoulder, anchoring them together. "Mine... mine little brother, mine," he whispered, thrusting into him, eyes closing as he started to find a rhythm, moving in and out, testing various angles until he found the right one. Then he started pushing Sam harder, fucking him faster, whispering into his ears about all the places he'd been, all the misery he'd seen, and that his own biggest personal misery had been that Sam hadn't been there with him. That there was no one who could lighten his burden, like Sam, after a hard day... understand him... like Sam.... take his crap, but call him out on it too.

Pressing back against Dean to each of his thrusts into him, Sam moaned, thrusting his cock into his fisted hand harder. Small mewls and harsh panted breaths escaping through parted lips. Sam answering each of Dean's whispers with ones of his own. How much he wanted Dean to believe in him again. How badly it had hurt for Dean to not trust him. How much he needed Dean, always. How there was no one else for him.

Curling his hips upwards as he thrust, Dean buried himself to the balls inside his brother."Oh yeah," he groaned near his ear, resting for a beat, then starting to thrust again. He still had a tight hold on Sam, was pulling him close each time he pushed inside. "Need you," he said, licking along Sam's shoulder, biting him when a particularly intense wave of pleasure and need crashed through him. Then he lost it... his control slipping, he started to fuck hard, his hips moving like a piston, his body slamming into Sam's again and again, so fucking hard the headboard was crashing into the wall. "Oh God... need you this much... all the time Sammy... all the time..." he grit out, biting his lip as he chased his release.

Sam's head fell back against Dean's shoulder, breaths panting out, mixing with the moans and groans of pleasure from them both, filling the room. Sam's free hand pulled from the wall to reach down, cupping his balls as he fucked harder into his fisted hand, pushing back against each of Dean's thrusts into his ass. "Ohgod.... s'good, s'good... don't stop! Need this, _you_ so fucking much, Dean!" Sam told him breathlessly.

Gritting his teeth, Sam screwed his eyes shut tight, cheeks flushing deep pink as his orgasm drew closer. "Oh God..." the words fell from Sam's lips in a whispered rush of air, as heat pooled low in his belly, balls drawing up painfully tight. Sam gave a groaned growl, before he ground out the words, "Love you," through gritted teeth. Then Sam was cumming, hot jets of spunk coating his fisted hand, his brother's name tearing from his throat.

His brother's words had Dean moving so hard that Sam's face might have hit the headboard if Dean hadn't been holding him across the chest, pulling him back each time he thrust. As his brother came apart in his arms, so did Dean. "Love you... love you too... no matter what..." he said, his fingers suddenly digging into Sam's shoulder and waist. Dean threw his head back as white hot heat flooded his system, shouting out Sam's name again, and again, as he spilled his seed deep inside his brother's clenched ass, writhing uncontrollabley, like he couldn't stop.

Sam gasped, continuing to thrust hard into his fisted hand, feeling like he wasn't ever going to stop cumming, the sensations of Dean filling his ass seeming to only push him farther. Sam's hand moved from his balls to reach back, gripping Dean's thigh, fingertips digging into his flesh. "Ohgod, Dean!..." Sam gulped in air, as his orgasm slowly subsided, though he continued to move, only slower now, thrusting into his fisted hand and pushing back against Dean's cock.

Sam licked his lips as he slowly pulled his head up, hanging it. "Don't... ohgod, don't stop... just keep moving." Sam panted breathlessly, head shaking slowly.

No, he wasn't stopping, not yet. Dean dropped his hand down to Sam's cock, and took over, gently stroking him, fingers slippery now from Sam's cum, fucking slowly into him, his mouth gliding up and down the side of Sam's throat. "I gotcha Sammy, always," he whispered thickly, eyes filling with tears because that hadn't been true, not for a long time. But things were gonna change now, he was claiming his brother back, from the way they'd drifted apart, from demons, from Goddamned Lucifer. Sam was his, and that was that... end of story, if he had to go write it in Chuck's books himself.

Sam's head on his brother's shoulder turned, lips parted, he captured Dean's mouth with his own, kissing him. It started out soft, slow, tender, but soon they were back at it again, devouring one anothers mouths, soft moans being swallowed up in the kiss as they held onto one another tightly, stayed joined the way that they were, neither seeming to want to give that up, at least not right now, not yet.

"Need you, always," Sam whispered between brushes of their lips, "be with me," another kiss, "have my back," another kiss, " _trust_ me," another kiss, this one Sam deepened, nipping Dean's bottom lip, "hold me," another kiss, "fuck me," another, "love me."

_Yes, yes, yes,_ Dean's answer was 'yes' to each of Sam's requests, and he meant it, body and soul. No one loved him more in this world. No one had his back like his brother. No one made him feel as important, as needed. No one completed him, like Sam did. Living without Sam had been like giving up his soul. He'd been a shell. Sure, he'd laughed, drank, fucked, killed... but someone else might as well have been wearing him like a meatsuit, because he, Dean Winchester, had not 'been there.' 

"No more walking away from each other, no more letting each other go. Together... we see this out, together Sammy," Dean made his own demands between kisses.

_Yes. Together._ "Till the end." Sam agreed softly, lips a breath away from Dean's as he turned slightly more, his hand moving to cup Dean's neck, pulling his brother in and sealing their deal with another kiss.

THE END


End file.
